


I Am Alpha Here

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha Sherlock, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Bruises, Fist Fights, Happy Ending, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Marking, Pack Dynamics, Painful Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Top John, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are both loners, Alphas without packs, and the tension between them has been growing.  Something is going to snap, and when it does it is going to be bloody spectacular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Alpha Here

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to dedicate this to [Capaow](http://capaow.tumblr.com/) who really wanted Packlock to be a thing. Basically you can consider this Omegaverse Light -- so pack dynamics are at play, but there isn't any of the freaky genetic stuff.

“You will unhand me this instant!” Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth as John dragged him by the arm up into the flat.  John’s grip was unshakable and he was radiating anger like heat.  He was fuming mad and it was all directed solely at Sherlock.

John made no response, only shoved Sherlock into the flat, slamming the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges.  Sherlock shrugged off his coat and hung it up along with his scarf as John simply fixed him with a furious stare.

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about John.” Sherlock said with an indifferent shrug, “Molly is perfectly happy to assist me and she has never complained about the way I treat her.”

“Never complained, Sherlock?” John took a menacing step closer.  “Of course she’s never complained.  That woman is _terrified_ of you.  Her _Alpha_ is terrified of you.  She thinks you’ll hurt her if she ever dared to not give you exactly what you want.”  

“Yes of course she is, she’s a sub and I’m Alpha.  That’s the way it’s meant to be.”

“God Sherlock, is that really what you think?”  John said with a shake of his head, not giving Sherlock a chance to answer.  “How can you possibly be so brilliant and yet so spectacularly ignorant about the world around you?  Molly owes you nothing, Sherlock, no one does.  You are not an Alpha, _you_ are a bully.”  John emphasized his point with a sharp jab of his finger to Sherlock’s chest.

“Excuse me?” Sherlock snarled, taking full advantage of his superior height to loom threateningly over John.  How could John accuse him of not being Alpha?  He always got exactly what he wanted from others, what was more Alpha than that?

John simply tipped his chin to meet Sherlock’s gaze, and repeated himself.  “You’re a bully.  Alphas trigger deference Sherlock, you only instill fear.  You could never lead a proper pack if you believe that’s what Alphas do.  That that’s what Alphas _are_.”

“I know exactly what Alphas are! I’ve been Alpha since puberty.  How dare you even suggest otherwise.  I’m not the only one without a pack here.”  Sherlock narrowed his eyes, hoping that bringing up what he knew John saw as a personal failing would get him off whatever course he was currently on.  Sherlock was starting to feel decidedly out of control of this situation, and he didn’t like it.

“At least I had a pack Sherlock, a good one.  I lead them well -- they trusted and respected me.  It’s not just power or the ability to intimidate that makes an Alpha, it’s trust and respect and it goes both ways.  I guess you missed that lesson.”  John said archly, tilting his head in a challenging gesture.

“Oh and I suppose you could teach me?”  Sherlock scoffed, still looming over John, invading his space.  He felt just about ready to snap.

“I could, if you weren’t too much of an egotistical bastard to learn it.”  John stated matter-of-factly, continuing to hold eye contact.

“What did you say to me?” Sherlock roared, grabbing two fistfuls of John’s jumper and pushing him hard into the wall, holding him there, noting the complete lack of reaction from John.  In fact, he almost looked a bit disappointed.

“I really don’t want to have to do this Sherlock.” John sighed.

“What,” Sherlock sniffed, “don’t think you can take me, _Captain?_ ” He sneered out John’s rank like an insult and shoved him harder into the wall.

John’s eyes glinted like sharp steel, his lips thinned and he clenched his jaw -- that’s the way it was to be, then.  In a split second John had reversed their positions, pinned Sherlock with his face to the wall, both his wrists held firmly behind his back.  “No, Sherlock, I just don’t want to hurt you.”  

Sherlock squirmed in John’s grip, letting out a noise that was equal parts surprise and frustration.  John was fast, but Sherlock had the height advantage.  “I wouldn’t be concerned about that.” Sherlock said, snapping his head back and making hard contact with John’s forehead, the flash of pain and accompanying disorientation giving Sherlock enough leeway to get free of John’s grasp and get away from the wall.  John rubbed his forehead with a wince, he should have seen that coming.  

Sherlock tried to make use of his superior reach, striking out with his fists while keeping John at a distance.  He still thought he could take John, beat him into submission, but it was going to be a harder fight than he had ever anticipated. He only managed to get one glancing blow on John’s cheek, enough to bruise, but not enough to even give John pause.  John simply dodged the rest of his punches and waited for an opening, which came quickly enough.  John rushed forward, grabbing Sherlock’s dominant arm by the wrist, wrenching it downward as he swung up with his other fist.  His knuckles came back bloody from Sherlock’s split lip.

Sherlock saw stars and tasted iron, the bruising force of John’s fingers on his wrist was nothing to the sharp shot of pain that burst through him as skin parted from skin at the intensity of the impact.  It only made Sherlock angrier.  He should have been winning this fight.  He was nothing if not Alpha, and if anyone was teaching anyone a lesson today, Sherlock was going to teach John just that.  

He caught John by the throat with his hand that wasn’t going numb from lack of blood flow, and was thankful for their difference in size as his thumb and fingers wrapped neatly around John’s neck with enough pressure to diminish his ability to breathe, if not cut it off entirely.  John’s eyes widened, his grip on Sherlock’s wrist loosened, and he was forced again into the wall.

John struggled for breath as Sherlock brought both hands to squeeze the air out of him.  “I.  Am.  Alpha” Sherlock snarled, his teeth bared and rage flashing in his eyes.  But John was quick and precise where Sherlock was impulsive and reckless, and swiftly reached up and over Sherlock’s arms, taking hold of his forearm to wrench right while he swung a deft left hook, catching Sherlock in the jaw at the same time John kneed him hard in the stomach.  Sherlock yelled as he stumbled backward, doubled over in pain.

In an instant John was on him again, bending Sherlock’s arm behind his back and over-extending his wrist until the pain was so intense that Sherlock dropped to the floor with a yelp.  John tackled him the rest of the way with a knee between Sherlock’s shoulder blades, following him down to the hardwood in a controlled fall, landing solidly on top of Sherlock’s back. John quickly secured his arms, shifting to straddle Sherlock’s lower back while leaning all of his body weight on his hands that held Sherlock’s arms in place.

The wind rushed out of Sherlock’s lungs so fast that he had trouble getting any back into them.  John’s solid weight on his back and chest wasn’t helping, and he was forced to gasp and pant to stop himself from blacking out.  Pain blossomed in his jaw, his lip, his wrists and arms and ribs, just as shame unfurled within him now that John had him pinned face down on the floor.  He thrashed and snarled and yelled while he tried to buck John off, but he was well and truly trapped.  All the while John said nothing, just held on and let Sherlock scream it out.  John was hardly even breathing heavily now, just dead calm, commanding, and patient in his full Alpha mode.  

John didn’t like resorting to violence -- it was overall the least effective way to get and maintain submission from packmates, but every once in a while some upstart would come along thinking John, small and quiet as he was, would easily be displaced in the traditional way -- a physical fight for power.  Those John had put down as easily as Sherlock, and the lesson usually stuck, or the upstart quickly requested a transfer out of John’s unit.  John recognized that some people just needed confirmation that John was an Alpha who could protect them, even if it was at the cost of their own ribs or noses.  John was nothing if not accommodating for his packmates.

“You are not Alpha here.”  John growled low in Sherlock’s ear, still pressing him hard into the floor.  “Do you understand?” He questioned, his voice as hard as his grip.

Sherlock made one last half-hearted attempt to throw John off of himself.  He wanted to scream more, to curse John and give voice to the crushing pain in his chest that stemmed from the feeling of defeat and a burgeoning, reluctant admiration.  No, more than admiration.  He had never wanted to be taken as much as he did with the weight of John Watson pressing him into the floor with his voice low, and demanding in his ear.  He couldn’t answer -- afraid of his own voice betraying him; betraying just how much need he felt now that he had been beaten.  Sherlock had never experienced anything like it before; had never felt much desire for physical contact at all, let alone whatever this was.

“I said, do you understand, Sherlock?” John repeated and Sherlock just nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and shifting his hips against the hard floor, his trousers uncomfortably tight.  “Say it.” John snarled.

Sherlock swallowed audibly and took a quivering breath.  “I … I am not Alpha.” he whispered.  

“And who is?”

Sherlock just moaned quietly into the floorboards in response, and felt John shift above him.  Sherlock gave a pained gasp as he felt Johns teeth bite into the back of his neck.  Sharp points bearing down to break skin as the pressure of the bite left an enduring bruise.  It was right over his spinal column, a symbolic gesture as much as anything.  It meant that Sherlock could have been killed, that he had been at the mercy of another Alpha.

John licked the bruise, tasting the blood that oozed slowly out of a few of the darker marks his teeth left.  “I will not ask again, Sherlock.  Who is Alpha?”  John said calmly.  

Sherlock swallowed hard.  “You,” his voice hitched, “you are, John.” He said, whimpering slightly at pain that now radiated out from the bite on his neck.

John shivered at the words -- it had been far too long since he had been Alpha to anyone, and having Sherlock pinned under him was exhilarating.  The tension that had been building up between them since they first met was also likely responsible and John was suddenly overcome with lust.  “Say it again.” John said, his voice coming out much rougher than he had intended.

“Yo-you’re Alpha, John.”  Sherlock stuttered and heard John catch his breath above him, felt a shudder run down through his body.

“That’s right, Sherlock.   _I_ am Alpha.   _You_ are beaten.  That makes you _mine_.”  This time it was Sherlock’s turn to shiver as he hoped that meant what he thought it meant.

“Yes.” Sherlock breathed softly.

“Ha!  No one asked you.” John snarled as he hauled Sherlock up from the floor with a hard grip on his bicep.  Sherlock scrambled to follow before John dislocated his shoulder and was immediately slammed face first into the wall, leaving him gasping for air again, setting off a fresh burst of pain from his already abused ribs.  John held him to the wall with a hand between his shoulder blades, but at this point Sherlock wasn’t going to fight back.  All the fight had drained out of him when he was forced to admit that John was clearly Alpha.  Now he just wanted this, wanted whatever John was going to give or take from him, and he wanted it badly.

John was working on auto-pilot, just the animalistic urge to claim Sherlock as his as completely and thoroughly as possible.  He was rock hard as he held Sherlock to the wall, the zip of his jeans was nearly painful against his trapped erection and Sherlock’s submission was just exciting him more.  He reached around to Sherlock’s front, not bothering to be subtle as he groped Sherlock’s stiff cock through his trousers.  Sherlock bit back a moan.  “You like it rough then, huh?”  John questioned and Sherlock could only bite his lip and nod.  “Mmm good.  And you _are_ going to be good for me, aren’t you Sherlock?”

“Yes John.” Sherlock gasped.

“Hmm I don’t think so.  That’s Captain for now, or Sir if two syllables escape you.  Understood?”

“Understood Captain.”  Sherlock said, realizing that John was using his earlier slight on his rank against him now.  God that was clever.  When had John gotten so damn clever, and so completely enthralling?  Sherlock couldn’t even think about it though as John’s hand kept rubbing and squeezing his cock and it was incredibly distracting.

“Upstairs, top drawer, bedside table.  I’m sure you know what you’re looking for.”  John said firmly as he took a step back and let Sherlock free.  It took a moment for John’s words to register and for Sherlock’s body to respond, but when it did he turned quickly and bounded up the stairs to John’s room.  His heart was racing and he noticed as he rifled through John’s bedside table that his hands were shaking too.  He was nervous, maybe even frightened, but more than that he was excited and aroused beyond belief.  He grabbed the bottle of lube and quickly descended the stairs, back to John.

John gave him a vicious grin and plucked the bottle from his hand, pocketing it and crowding Sherlock back up against the wall.  “Took you long enough.”  Sherlock felt the colour rise in his face as John just stared hungrily at him for a moment, his eyes leisurely traveling up and down Sherlock’s body, appreciating, calculating.  John took in every detail that he could.  The high flush on Sherlock’s cheekbones, his split lip and the bruise blossoming on his jaw, his dishevelled hair and the dirt clinging to his rumpled trousers.  He had never looked more gorgeous.

John reached up took two handfuls of Sherlock’s shirt, pulling him down as he stretched up, kissing him hard on the mouth, slipping his tongue inside and staking his claim.  Sherlock’s mouth had the hard tang of iron from his busted lip and a faint trace of cigarettes.  John bit down hard on his bottom lip, and Sherlock gasped and writhed with the pain, the split opening up again as John kissed him more, both tasting blood.  John moaned into the kiss, starting to pick Sherlock’s shirt buttons apart, needing to see more of him, leave his mark on all of that pale skin.

Sherlock could only react to what John was doing.  It was like his mind had been emptied completely until all the remained was John, the bright points of his own pain, and just the promise of more.  More of what Sherlock wasn’t sure.  He was John’s now.  John would know what he needed, or what he deserved; Sherlock had never been more of sure of anything than he was of that.  He didn’t even have time to wonder how he had suddenly come to such a conclusion because John’s teeth were digging into the flesh of his shoulder and his hands were tugging insistently on the waist of his trousers.

John wanted all of Sherlock.  Wanted him stripped bare and raw and whimpering underneath him and he desperately wanted it now.  He sunk his teeth into Sherlock’s skin, tasting salt as he clawed open the front of his trousers, shoving them and his pants roughly down his thighs.  Sherlock whined and John chased the noise back past his bruised and bleeding lips.  He wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s stiff cock, giving it a hard tug and making Sherlock groan and press himself into the wall as his knees quivered, threatening to give way.

John grabbed Sherlock’s shoulder and spun him to face the wall again, ripping his shirt off but leaving his trousers trapped around his knees.  John pressed himself fully against him, letting Sherlock feel how hard he was as he ground against him.  “You want it?” John rasped, his breath hot on Sherlock’s neck, his hands already roaming over Sherlock’s naked arse.

“God yes.”  Sherlock moaned, his cock twitching at the thought, but the pleasure of it was cut off in a startled yell as John grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled hard, forcing his neck back and bringing tears stinging to his eyes.   

“Would you like to try that again?”  John said, his voice cold, calm, but absolutely demanding.

Sherlock shivered.  “Yuh-yes, Captain.”

“I thought you said you were going to be good for me, Sherlock.  Why don’t you make it up to me?  Beg me for it.”  John wanted to hear the great Sherlock Holmes, former Alpha, beg for his cock like a shameless little sub.  He let go of Sherlock’s hair and listened as he let out a shuddering breath.

“Please, Captain.”  Sherlock started out, and John stayed quiet, continuing to rut lightly into Sherlock’s backside as he let his hands roam.  “Please I want it so bad.”

“Want what?”  John prompted, nipping at Sherlock’s back.

“I want … want you to fuck me.  I want,”  Sherlock groaned as John roughly palmed his arse cheeks.  “I want your cock inside me, please, please, Sir.  Fuck.  I need it.  Please, Captain, please.”  Sherlock begged.

John moaned, “that’s more like it.”  He fished the bottle of lube from his pocket and coated his fingers liberally, spreading Sherlock’s cheeks with one hand while he pressed his slick fingers to his hole.  Sherlock was already shaking, breathing hard in desperate little pants as John pushed in.  It was just one finger to start, but John was none too gentle and Sherlock felt a twinge of pain as he twisted it inside of him.  “Fuck you’re tight.”  John marvelled as he worked his finger inside Sherlock, feeling the press of muscle that he would need to work loose if he had a hope of fucking him.

Sherlock just moaned and trembled as John opened him up, first with one, then two, and eventually three slick fingers.  The intrusion went from a twinge of burning pain to not nearly enough more quickly than Sherlock would have thought possible, and soon he was rocking back against John’s fingers and whining for more.  John shifted his fingers deliberately, brushing Sherlock’s prostate.  “Ahh!” Sherlock arched and shouted, intense pleasure seeming to radiate from John’s fingers out to his toes and up his spine and making his cock throb.  John just made a pleased humm and did it again.  It was torturous; so much and not nearly enough all at the same time and Sherlock felt his mind start to white out as sweat trickled down his neck and temples.

“On your knees.”  John whispered hoarsely in his ear, removing his fingers and stepping back enough to let Sherlock slip down to the floor with a whine.  John quickly stripped Sherlock’s pants and trousers all the way off, removing his own jumper and unbuttoning his collared shirt, pulling it from his shoulders.  He kicked Sherlock’s feet apart while he unzipped his jeans, pushing them and his pants down just enough to free his straining cock.  He stared at Sherlock’s wet, pink hole while he slicked himself up with more lube, groaning just a little at the feel of it.

Sherlock pressed the side of his face against the cool wall, his hands up against it too, supporting him as he knelt arse out and knees spread on the hard floor.  God he wanted this.  He felt on fire with want, like his body would consume itself if John didn’t fuck him soon.  He bit his lip and listened to the unmistakable sound of John stroking his cock while he stood behind him.  “Pleasepleaseplease.”  Sherlock didn’t even realize he was muttering under his breath until John told him to speak up.  “Please” Sherlock keened, “please, Sir.”

“Mmm so you’re learning to be polite then?”  John said, an eyebrow quirked that Sherlock couldn’t see.  John thought it was a good turn of events, Sherlock begging without having been asked to.  “I’ll show you what good little subs get when they learn their lessons.”  John knelt down behind Sherlock, spread his cheeks with one hand, pressed the head of his cock up to that sweet, slick hole and _pushed_.

John groaned and Sherlock wailed.  Oh fuck did it hurt.  The searing, ripping pain of it tore through Sherlock’s nervous system in bright flash that made his other cuts and bruises throb in sympathy.  When Sherlock managed to claw another breath into his lungs, some of his senses came back online and he realized John was stroking his back, his mouth pressed to Sherlock’s shoulder, murmuring “that’s it, so good for me, Sherlock.  So fucking tight, it feels so good.”

Sherlock pulled another shaking breath into his lungs, then another, realizing that the pain was starting to subside as John had stilled inside of him.  The stretch was still incredible though.  Nothing compared.  He felt so full and so completely John’s.  “Th-thank you, Captain.” he managed to stutter and John groaned above him.

“Now you’re just being a kiss arse, aren’t you?”  Sherlock could feel John smiling against his skin.  “I like it.”  John shifted his hips just a little, gave a shallow thrust, and Sherlock moaned.  He was torn between the stinging pain and and the incredible pleasure of having John’s cock inside him, and at the moment he wasn’t sure which was winning out.  All of the sensations fought inside of him and he felt completely overwhelmed.

John revelled in the feeling of finally, finally being inside of Sherlock, claiming every inch of him inside and out, and it _felt so good_.  Sherlock’s whole body was trembling underneath him, he was gasping for air, and John struggled to give him a bit of time to adjust, fighting his urge to just fuck him into oblivion.  John settled for running his hands over Sherlock’s overheated skin, pressing his mouth to him and running his tongue over the angry dark mark he had left on the back of his neck, nosing into Sherlock’s hair.  John breathed him in -- the sweat and smoke and spice of him.  It was intoxicating.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll still feel my cock inside you tomorrow.”  John growled against Sherlock’s ear, licking a stripe up it for emphasis.  “And then I’m going to fuck you every day after that so you never forget, not for a moment, not for a single solitary second, Sherlock, just who you belong to.”

Sherlock let out a wavering and desperate moan as John’s words sent a pleasing shock up his spine, making his cock twitch and his body clench around him.  John groaned, “Ahh, like that, do you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sherlock breathed, his sweaty palms starting to slip down the wall.

“You’ll more than like it soon.  You’ll love it, won’t you?  Love someone finally having a handle on you, teaching you how to behave yourself.  And if you do, Sherlock, if you behave, I will make it so good for you.  You’ll wonder how you ever lived before you had me as a mate.”

“Ohh, please.”  Sherlock said, his voice small and quivering.  It felt like John was promising him the world, an entirely new world that Sherlock had never in his life stopped to consider might actually be appealing to him.  But it was, it was irresistible now that it was being offered.

“Are you ready?”  John asked, teeth clenched and his voice tight.  He was already so close with hardly having moved at all, and he knew once he started, everything would be over in a few furious, breathtaking minutes.

“Y-yes, Captain.”  Sherlock said, taking one more deep breath while John hummed in his ear.

“Enough now, I want to hear you scream my name.”  With that John drew his hips back in one fluid motion and slammed forward into Sherlock.  The force of it reverberated through Sherlock’s bones and pushed him hard into the wall, leaving him scrabbling for purchase.  John had a bruising hold on his hips and his knees dug painfully into the floor to add to the number of marks that were now all over Sherlock’s body.  He didn’t even consider them though as his whole world narrowed down to the feeling of John fucking him hard and fast, sparking overwhelming pleasure that suffused his battered body.

John panted and groaned with each thrust into Sherlock, driving himself closer and closer to the edge as the sounds of skin slapping skin and the wet squish of lube filled the room.  John reached down to grip Sherlock’s leaking cock, stroking him fast and without finesse.  It didn’t matter and John knew it from the way Sherlock was breathing hard and rocking back into his thrusts, whining and moaning the whole time.

“Aww fuck!  Oh jesus you feel good.”  John said, his voice rough.  He let his fingers glide over the slick head of Sherlock’s cock before he gripped him tighter, tugging on his cock in firm, desperate strokes.  “Come for me, Sherlock.”  John ordered and Sherlock couldn’t help but obey.  His entire body felt like it had been flooded with a startling heat that pooled low in his belly and pulsed.  He came thick spurts all over John’s hand, splattering the wall and puddling on the floor as all his muscles contracted and flexed in great twitching waves of grateful release.  “John!” Sherlock screamed, the syllable tearing its way out of his throat in a choked sort of sob.

“Mine!”  John snarled, giving one more thrust and burying himself deep in Sherlock’s arse as he came, the ripple of Sherlock’s muscles practically milking his cock.  John bit into Sherlock’s back, stifling his moans as he let his own pleasure wash through him.  It had been years since he had come that hard, and he felt his eyes nearly roll back in his head with each fresh twitch of his cock or squeeze of Sherlock’s muscles.   

They stayed like that for a few long minutes, breath coming in rough, chest-heaving gasps and bodies thrilling with aftershocks as their sweat mingled.  Eventually John let his softening cock slip from Sherlock’s red, raw hole and watched for a moment as his come seeped out of him, running down the inside of his thighs.  Sherlock shivered and let out a weak groan, pressing his forehead into the wall.  

Sherlock’s mind was blissfully blank and calm, and the pain of his various injuries was temporarily silenced in the hazy afterglow of an intense orgasm.  He didn’t even realize that John had left until he was back, taking Sherlock’s arm and wrapping it over his shoulder, his other arm solid across Sherlock’s back, helping him to stand.  “Come on Sherlock, I’ve got you.”  John said, his voice soft and soothing.  

John half carried, half dragged Sherlock’s limp and shaking body to the bathroom.  “You drew me a bath.”  Sherlock stated, the puzzlement clear in his voice, although it wasn’t a question.

“I did.  And I would like very much if you would get yourself into it because you’re really a bit heavy.”  John puffed.

 Sherlock climbed into the tub with only some assistance, and sunk down into the hot water, wincing a little as some of his more tender areas were submerged.  John knelt next to the tub and examined Sherlock’s cuts and bruises.  John smiled gently at him, “I did a bit of a number on you, didn’t I?”

Sherlock huffed out a short laugh.  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that I deserved it?”

“No, Sherlock, jesus,”  John looked him in the eye, his face the picture of sincerity, “of course you didn’t deserve that.  You deserve this, right here.” John gestured to the tub.  “Being looked after and cared for and, and … loved.  You’ve never had that, have you?”

John managed to look sad and embarrassed all at once and it made Sherlock’s heart lurch unexpectedly.  He just shook his head, suddenly confused about his entire life up until this point.  He had never thought he was missing anything, certainly not affection, certainly not a mate, but John was offering him all of it anyway.

“Now, I’m not saying that before, that _this_ ,” John gently stroked the livid bite mark on the back of Sherlock’s neck, “wasn’t necessary, because we both know it was.  But it isn’t what you’re signing up for with me as your Alpha.”

Sherlock looked up at him, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, “not even the later bits, Captain?”  

John turned bright red up to the tops of his ears with that and Sherlock let his smirk turn into a full-blown grin.  “That’s, that’s negotiable.”  John stuttered, turning quickly away to grab a wash cloth.  

Sherlock reached out of the tub to grip one of John’s wrists, “I want to.  Be your mate, that is, if that’s what you’re offering.”  It was Sherlock’s turn to blush now, but at least he could blame the warmth of the bath.

“You’re sure?”  John asked, letting Sherlock have an out if he wanted to change his mind.  It wasn’t very conventional, offering a choice, but nothing about their relationship up until that point had been in any way conventional.

“Yes, John.  I think … I think I would like that very much.”

John’s eyes lit up and he surged forward, kissing Sherlock hard on the mouth, spilling bathwater and making Sherlock hiss in a breath as his split lip complained, but he didn’t dare break that kiss.  John was his Alpha, he was John’s mate, and this kiss seemed to seal the deal.

Sherlock felt his mind reshuffle and reorder as he let those phrases sink into his skin, down into the very center of his being.   _I am John’s mate.  John is my Alpha._ Sherlock smiled at the thought and John smiled right back at him. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)


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